-Who were his companions? An old tradition (unfortunately beset with doubts) points to one youth, at that time in Oxford, and at Queen's College, whom we shall all recognise as an old acquaintance-John Wycliffe, the first English Reformer, and the first translator of the Bible into English. He would have been a poor boy, in a threadbare coat, and devoted to study, and the Prince probably never exchanged looks or words with him. But we shall be glad to be allowed to believe that once at least in their lives the great soldier of the age had crossed the path of the great Reformer. Each thought and cared little for the other; their characters, and pursuits, and sympathies, were as different as were their stations in life. Let us be thankful if we have learned to understand them both, and see what was good in each, far better than they did themselves.

We now pass to the next events of his life; those which have really made him almost as famous in war, as Wycliffe has been in peace-the two great battles of Cressy and of Poitiers. I will not now go into the origin of the war, of which these two battles formed the turning-points. It is enough for us to remember that it was undertaken by Edward III. to gain the crown of France, a claim, through his mother, which he had solemnly relinquished, but which he now resumed to satisfy the scruples of his allies, the citizens of Ghent, who thought that their oath of allegiance to the "King of France," would be redeemed if their leader did but bear the name.

[1346.] And now, first for Cressy. I shall not undertake to describe the whole fight, but will call your attention briefly to the questions which every one ought to ask himself, if he wishes to understand anything about any battle whatever. First, where was it fought? secondly, why was it fought? thirdly, how was it won? and fourthly, what was the result of it? And to this I must add, in the present instance, what part was taken in it by the Prince, whom we left as a little boy at Oxford, but who was now following his father as a young knight in his first great campaign?

The first of these questions involves the second also. If we make out where a battle was fought, this usually tells us why it was fought; and this is one of the many proofs of the use of learning geography together with history. Each helps us to understand the other. Edward had ravaged Normandy and reached the very gates of Paris, and was retreating towards Flanders when he was overtaken by the French king, Philip, who, with an immense army, had determined to cut him off entirely, and so put an end to the war. With difficulty, and by the happy accident of a low tide, he crossed the mouth of the Somme, and found himself in his own maternal inheritance of Ponthieu; and for that special reason encamped near the forest of Cressy, fifteen miles east of Abbeville. "I am," he said, "on the right heritage of Madam my mother, which was given her in dowry; I will defend it against my adversary, Philip of Valois." It was Saturday, the 28th of August, 1346, and it

was at four in the afternoon that the battle commenced. It always helps us better to imagine any remarkable event, when we know at what time of the day or night it took place; and on this occasion it is of great importance, because it helps us at once to answer the third question we asked-how was the battle won?

The French army had advanced from Abbeville after a hard day's march to overtake the retiring enemy. All along the road, and flooding the hedgeless plains, which bordered the road, the army, swelled by the surrounding peasantry, rolled along, crying, "Kill! kill!" drawing their swords, and thinking that they were sure of their prey. What the French king chiefly relied upon (besides his great numbers) was the troop of fifteen thousand cross-bowmen from Genoa. These were made to stand in front: when, just as the engagement was about to take place, one of those extraordinary incidents occurred, which often turn the fate of battles, as they do of human life in general. A tremendous storm gathered from the west, and broke in thunder and rain and hail on the field of battle. The sky was darkened, and the horror was increased by the hoarse cries of crows and ravens which fluttered before the storm, and struck terror into the hearts of the Italian bowmen, who were unaccustomed to these northern tempests. And when at last the sky had cleared, and they prepared their crossbows to shoot, the strings had been so wet by the rain that they could not draw them. By this time the evening sun streamed out

in full splendour 5 over the black clouds of the western sky-right in their faces; and at the same moment the English archers, who had kept their bows in cases during the storm, and so had their strings dry, let fly their arrows so fast and thick, that those who were present could only compare it to snow or sleet. Through and through. the heads, and necks, and hands of the Genoese bowmen, the arrows pierced. Unable to stand it, they turned and fled; and from that moment the panic and confusion was so great that the day was lost.

But though the storm, and the sun, and the archers had their part, we must not forget the Prince. He was, we must remember, only sixteen, and yet he commanded the whole English army. It is said that the reason of this was, that the King of France had been so bent on destroying the English forces, that he had hoisted the sacred banner of France -the great scarlet flag, embroidered with golden lilies, called the Oriflamme— as a sign that no quarter would be given; and that when King Edward saw this, and saw the hazard to which he should expose not only the army, but the whole kingdom, if he were to fall in battle, he determined to leave it to his son.

On the top of a windmill, of which the solid tower still is to be seen on the ridge overhanging the field, the King, for whatever reason, remained bareheaded, whilst the young Prince, who had been knighted a month before, went forward with his companions in arms, into the very thick of the

fray; and when his father saw that the victory was virtually gained, he forebore to interfere. "Let the child win his spurs," he said, in words which have since become a proverb, "and let the day be his." The Prince was in very great danger at one moment; he was wounded and thrown to the ground, and only saved by Richard de Beaumont, who carried the great banner of Wales, throwing the banner over the boy as he lay on the ground, and standing upon it till he had driven back the assailants.

The assailants were driven back, and far through the long summer evening, and deep into the summer night, the battle raged. It was not till all was dark, that the Prince and his companions halted from their pursuit; and then huge fires and torches were lit up, that the king might see where they were. And then took place the touching interview between the father and son; the king embracing the boy in front of the whole army, by the red light of the blazing fires, and saying, "Sweet son, God give you good perseverance; you are my true son-right loyally have you acquitted yourself this day, and worthy are you of a crown," and the young prince, after the reverential manner of those times, bowed to the ground, and gave all the honour to the King his father. The next day the King walked over the field of carnage with the Prince, and said, "What think you of a battle, is it an agreeable game?"

The general result of the battle was the deliverance of the English army from a most